


Commercialism, Merit Badges, and Liquid Courage

by pocky_slash



Series: Team Shithead [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Graduate School, M/M, Valentine's Day, feelings are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: Alex has never celebrated Valentine's Day and John has no problem with it, so a Valentine's Day date shouldn't be such a big deal. And yet....(AKA Alex plans a date, some Girl Scouts are skeptical, and John is bad at feelings.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I've been taking time stamp requests over on tumblr and someone requested Valentine's Day 2015. They requested it well before Valentine's Day, but this decided to be eight thousand words long, so...yeah. If you're new here, you might want to read the rest of the series. If nine batrillion words of shitheads having feelings seems intimidating, just know that this is an AU where ghosts are real and studying them is a normal, accepted science, and the gang are all in grad school to do just that.
> 
> Some things:  
> 1) This takes place in the middle of another fic I'm writing, but tumblr voted that I should post it now instead of waiting for that one to be finished.
> 
> 2) The area in NJ where I grew up and Girl Scouted (and where this verse largely takes place) was a Little Brownie region and eastern Massachusetts is large ABC and the differences are subtle, but real. (Although ABC gets Thanks-a-Lots, which are my second favorite, so. Points for that.)
> 
> 3) Thanks to **weesaw** for looking this over and also for sending me an email back in August to encourage me to keep going with this verse when I was mired in despair ♥
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading. I'm sorry the time between stories has increased so dramatically--I'm finding writing to be somewhat difficult since November.

*  
**Part One: Commercialism**  
*

"Why the hell is Hancock's having a Valentine's Day sale?"

John is listening, theoretically, but none of Alex's words are registering in his head: his voice is nothing more than soothing white noise as John concentrates on measuring sulfur into chem packs. Chemistry is the sub-discipline that John struggles with the most—all of his lost points on the IP exam were on chem questions and he's still nervous enough about the work to double- and triple-check formulas when he's replenishing their field kits.

"John?"

John hums absently.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," John says. "I just didn't listen to what you were saying."

He's mostly satisfied with his work, which is lucky, because Alex is unlikely to leave him alone now that he's decided to be deeply affronted by John's snub. John seals the packet he was putting together, then starts to close the various tubes and bottles littering the chem bench. He can feel Alex glaring at him.

"You're such an asshole, I don't know why I like you," Alex huffs.

"Mm, but I'm your asshole."

John takes off his gloves and apron and leaves them on the chem bench, then turns off the light and crosses to Alex's desk, perching on the edge. Alex is pointedly staring at his screen, fully committed to ignoring John, despite the fact that he didn't have time to click into something important, so he's staring intently at the weekly ad for their favorite Mexican place.

"Your life is so hard," John says dryly.

"Thank you for acknowledging it, at least," Alex says.

The lab is quiet, save for the two of them. Burr is home with the death cold that's been rolling through the university for the past few weeks and Laf is in class. John's only just getting over his own weekend nursing the cold and he's still a little tired. "So what was so important? Something about Hancock's?"

"It's stupid." Alex gives in and turns away from his screen, looking up at John. "Like, ‘you're going to roll your eyes that I made such a big deal out of this whole thing'-level stupid." John gestures for him to get on with it. "I was just commenting that Hancock's is having a Valentine's Day sale, which seems dumb because, you know—they sell parapsych equipment."

"I think John Hancock's legal middle name is ‘Any Excuse For A Sale,'" John says.

"You're not wrong," Alex says.

"Is it a good sale, at least?"

"Twenty-percent off a bunch of stupid shit."

"Very romantic," John says. He hops off of Alex's desk and returns to his own. He has a lengthy to-do list today, and the chem stuff was only part of it. Alex, Lafayette, Burr, and Molly tried to cover as much of his shit as they could while he was gone, but they've all taken their turns being sick as well and everyone's tasks and assignments are piling up as more and more people are stuck in bed.

"That's what I'm saying!" Alex says, but he settles down after that, humming under his breath as he clicks through the rest of his email and then moves on to whatever else he has to do for the day. He's a quiet presence at John's side, which has become a sweet sort of comfort over the past few months.

"Hey, wait." Or not so quiet, sometimes.

"Yes?" John asks.

"Valentine's Day is like...Saturday."

John glances at the calendar on the wall. "It is."

"Just, I mean—do we...do you want to...?" 

John blames the sluggishness of his brain on four days of being sick. He blinks at Alex's confused frown for far too long until everything slots into place.

"Do I want to do something for Valentine's Day?" John asks.

"Yeah." Alex shrugs. "I've never, you know. Done this before."

John opens his mouth and then closes it. After a moment, he admits, "I...haven't really either."

Valentine's Day wasn't huge at his boarding school, not like it is in the states, and none of the guys he dated in college were traditional hearts-and-flowers types. Hell, John's not really a traditional hearts-and-flowers type, not really. 

Well, maybe a more accurate statement would be that he hasn't really been that way _before_.

"I mean, I know it's like, a made-up Hallmark Holiday, but it's such a cultural _thing_ ," Alex says thoughtfully. He gets up from his desk and leans against John's. "And, at its heart, it's not a bad thing. The idea of setting aside a particular day to spotlight love and affection—obviously, in theory, you celebrate those things every day of your life, but that's probably why it's important to have a day to really dedicate to them, sort of a reminder of how important these common, every day occurrences are, you know?"

John's not sure how Alex is able to vacillate so quickly between being a total shithead asshole and so earnestly sweet, but, god, John _loves him._

"I mean...I'm not opposed to it," John says, even as the distinct prickling at the back of his neck that signals imminent _feelings_ spreads up to his hairline and down his shoulders.

Alex grins. "Cool. Then we should do something. Why not, right?"

"Why not?" John says, and hopes he doesn't sound or look as nervous as he feels.

"What should we do? Do you want to go out to dinner? Or, like, another date-y type thing? I guess we don't really go on dates. I mean, we go out together all the time, but usually that's just...convenience."

"Yeah," John says. He's going to blame all his one-word answers on his lingering cold. "Um. Whatever you want?"

"I'll google it," Alex decides.

It's John's turn to stare, unseeing, at his computer screen as Alex types and clicks and hums beside him. It's not that he doesn't _want_ to go on a Valentine's date—he likes doing things with Alex, he has nothing against Valentine's Day, and after the last few shitty weeks of being alternately stuck in bed with colds and overworked to cover for other people stuck in bed with colds, taking some time for themselves as John-and-Alex seems like a good idea.

But, fuck, what kind of expectations go along with something like this? It's a day about romance, but romantic!John really only exists in the quiet moments between the two of them. Public!John is a loud troublemaker who's always ready with a flippant remark, and it's strange to think of reconciling those two parts of himself.

And, all that aside, you don't have a day dedicated to that kind of romance without _feelings_ coming into play. Feelings that he'll probably have to talk about. Feelings that Alex will definitely talk about, which means John will have to reply with...with words...and things.

He might make a tiny noise of despair. Either way, Alex glances up at him absently, then looks more closely.

"Babe, are you alright?" he asks. "Are you sick again?"

"I'm...fine," John says. "I'm just...." He gestures vaguely at the calendar. He watches Alex's eyes as they dart back and forth, taking in his expression, reading his mood from his posture and the look on his face and the things he's not saying. Alex is so fucking good at that. John should feel ashamed that he has to be, but instead it's a dizzying relief.

"Do you...not want to do a thing for Valentine's Day?" Alex asks.

"It's not that," John says weakly. "I always want to do things with you. I just...there's a lot of..." He wiggles his fingers and scrunches up his nose. "You know."

"Frank conversations about what's going on in your head?" Alex says dryly.

"Shut up," John mutters.

Alex leans up from his seat on one foot, just far enough to press a kiss to John's cheek.

"Don't worry, gumdrop, I promise I won't make you talk about your feelings," he says, and he's gone before John can swat him away, settling back into his chair. "No pressure, no heartfelt confessions of love required, just dinner and an activity TBD."

"You're such an asshole," John says, even as some of the tension drains from his shoulders.

"Nope," Alex says, "I'm great and the best boyfriend ever and I'm gonna plan the best date ever for us. And just for that, I'm gonna keep it a secret til Saturday."

"You're so immature," John says, sticking his tongue out at Alex.

Alex kicks him and he kicks back and Laf walks in on them having a kick fight ten minutes later, Valentine's Day discussion behind them.

* * *

Because, of course, things are never easy, on Friday Lafayette relapses back into the death cold their lab can't seem to shake. Mrs. Washington takes him home with her and once John and Alex are back in their apartment for the evening, John makes up a bag for him and drives it over. 

On his way back, he stops at CVS to replace some of the stuff they've burned through the past two weeks, passing the cold back and forth. Tissues, mainly, and orange juice. The parking lot is packed, though, and he doesn't understand why until he goes inside. There are Valentine's displays everywhere and people milling about, picking through what's left and waiting on two long lines with boxes of candy and greeting cards. John pauses just inside the door. Should he get Alex a card? The card section looks pretty picked over—will it be obvious he waited til the last minute? Of course, they didn't even have plans until twenty-four hours ago, so maybe that's not a big deal. Is Alex going to get him a card?

He steps out of the way to allow someone to duck past him and back out of the store. His gaze falls upon the photo counter and a plan snaps into place all at once. He dashes back out to the car and pulls out his laptop, opening up iPhoto and clicking impatiently through folders until he finds what he's looking for. It's a stupid picture—or, not stupid. It's a sentimental picture. Laf or Herc took it one night while they were working, though neither of them will own up to it. John and Alex are sitting on a blanket, backs to the camera. They're leaning against each other, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by tech and binders and cases. John can't remember what they were talking about, not that it matters. What matters is that Lafayette or Hercules took his phone from his bag and snapped a photo, and while John bitched at them for for messing around with his things instead of working, he didn't delete it.

He copies it onto a thumb drive he digs out of his bag, then stashes his laptop on the back seat and goes back into CVS. He walks the aisles and grabs the tissues and OJ he needs, along with a pack of hairties, a bag of gummy bears, and a pen with a light-up star on top. He takes it all up to the photo desk and rings the bell. He only has to wait a moment or two for a stressed looking attendant to speed-walk from the back of the store and slip behind the counter.

"So, it's a 5x7," he tells the guy once he's handed over his thumbdrive. "But would it be possible to print it on an 8x10 sheet? Not to blow it up, just to only use half the sheet."

The guy gives him a strange look, but does as he says. Sure, he could print a nicer copy at the lab without spending the dollar and change this'll cost him, but he doesn't want to turn around and go back to the lab tonight, so convenience wins out.

The photo guy rings up the rest of his stuff too, much to the annoyance of everyone else waiting in line, and John is home ten minutes later. He can hear Alex typing away in the living room.

"Hey, I'm home," he calls out on his way into the kitchen. He puts the OJ away and leaves the tissues on the table, then heads into their bedroom.

"I'll be in in a minute," Alex says as John walks by, which means it'll be closer to ten. Plenty of time, then, to wrap a piece of ribbon around the gummy bears, hairties, and pen and then fold the photo into an impromptu card and...stare at it blankly.

He wants to write something meaningful inside of it, but words like this—they're not his strong suit. Alex can and has written him lengthy emails that read like poetry, detailing all the parts of John he loves and why. It's as easy as breathing for him, but those words have never been easy for John, least of all at the very last minute without more than the drive home to think about them.

In the end, he gives up. Maybe the words will come to him someday, but today they're stubbornly absent.

 _I love your stupid face_ , he writes inside of the card. He looks down at it and then scrawls a heart and his first initial, closing it over before he can second-guess himself and stashing it in his bag with the stupid drugstore gift.

He strips out of his clothes and crawls into bed, and that's where he's waiting when Alex emerges five minutes later.

"Got a lot of work to do?" John asks. Alex toes out of his shoes and then pulls off his sweater.

"Yeah, but I'd rather do you right now."

John groans. "And you complain about my fucking lines."

Alex's belt hits the floor and then he's hoping out of his jeans. "Do you want me to suck your dick or not?"

"By all means, don't let me stop you." Alex climbs up onto his lap and their first kiss is skewed by the grins neither of them can suppress.

* * *

*  
**Part Two: Merit Badge**  
*

* * *

Alex's desire for surprise first becomes a problem early Saturday afternoon, when John is staring into the closet with a towel around his waist.

"Hey, what am I supposed to wear?" he calls out into the living room. He hears Alex's typing peter out.

"Clothes?" Alex suggests, because Alex is a fucking smartass.

"No, I mean—" John peers around the door frame and into the living room. "Like, fancy? Casual? House clothes? Tie and dress shoes? Hiking boots?"

Alex frowns at him thoughtfully then says, "Uh...nicer than usual, but not nice-nice? I don't know, you can wear your chucks but put on something fancier than a hoodie?"

"Got it." Work clothes, then—the sort of thing he wears when he's TAing and wants to look slightly more respectable than he does when he's bumming around the lab.

"In what world would you need to wear _hiking boots_ on a date with me?" Alex shouts down the hall as an afterthought.

"You're always full of surprises," John says.

"Yeah, but, like, _sane person_ surprises. Not fucking...hiking bullshit."

John rolls his eyes and grabs a button down out of the closet, then kicks the door to the bedroom closed, not for privacy, but as commentary on Alex's general...Alexness this morning.

Alex's desire for surprise becomes a problem again once they're dressed and in the car. John starts the engine and then pauses.

"Wait, where are we going?" he asks.

Alex pulls out his phone and punches something into GoogleMaps, then pulls John's phone out of the clip in the air vent and replaces it with his own. 

"Now we have to listen to your shitty music the whole way there?" John asks as the GoogleMaps lady instructs him to pull out onto the street.

"The music you listen to is literally noise, shithead," Alex says.

"All music is technically noise," John says.

"You're lucky I'm madly in love with you or else I'd make you pull over so I could get out and take someone with good taste on this date instead."

"I'm dating you; how good could my taste be, really?"

Alex shoves him and he laughs and turns down the road towards town.

The GoogleMaps lady directs them away from the city and down a series of picturesque backroads. Eventually, the route loops around onto a more familiar path. 

"Are we going to the county college?" John asks.

Alex is annoyingly silent.

But John is correct—soon enough they're pulling onto the campus of the county college and the GoogleMaps lady tells him they've arrived at their destination. Their actual destination stops being a surprise when Alex says, "Turn left," and all that's off to the left is the planetarium. John parks the car and then turns to look at Alex.

"The planetarium?" he says. There's a smile creeping across his face.

"Yeah?" Alex says. He's trying to look self-assured, but John can hear the question in his voice. "I was googling for good stuff to do on Valentine's Day and somebody recommended it, so I checked and they have a special Valentine's Day program tonight."

John's full on grinning now. Except— "Tonight?"

Alex looks shiftily away. "Well. The program tonight was sold out. But the program this afternoon wasn't, so I figured, you know. Same thing, right?"

John can't help the laugh that bursts out of him. Alex grins too, and John reaches across the center console and takes Alex's face between his hands, then kisses him soundly.

"You're a fucking nerd," he says.

"But I'm _your_ fucking nerd," Alex reminds him. "Let's go—the thing starts in like, fifteen minutes."

Inside the planetarium's lobby there's a troop of Brownies, an older couple, and a gaggle of undergrads carrying binders and pens, taking notes on the exhibits scattered across the room. John spies the poster advertising "Valentine's Day Under the Stars," which looks twee and romantic. The poster advertising their show says "recommended for ages 8+" on the bottom. It's about star death and supernovas, and the whole fiasco feels so _Alex_ that it's really the best Valentine's date John could have asked for.

"You're...." John starts to say, but he's not sure how he's going to end that sentence. Alex turns to him, eyebrows raised, and John just shrugs helplessly in response and squeezes his hand.

"I'm gonna pick up the tickets," Alex says. He grins and kisses John's cheek. "I'll be right back."

That leaves John to walk through the displays in the lobby, looking over the heads of the chattering Brownies and dodging the undergrads as they frantically take notes. He gets nearly all the way around the room before he realizes Alex hasn't returned and looks up.

Alex is standing about five feet from the ticket window, tickets in hand, arguing with two eight year old girls.

Sounds about right.

John bites back his smile and makes his way over to Alex, bumping their shoulders together.

"Is this guy bothering you ladies?" he asks.

"This is a kids' show," one of them says seriously.

"It says eight _plus_. We're plus," Alex insists.

"Now, now," John murmurs, reaching out to snag Alex's fingers with his own. "You'll probably get kicked out of the university if you pick a fight with an eight year old."

"I'm _nine_ ," the girl replies.

"Sorry," John says, with no trace of sarcasm. "I'm John, this is Alexander."

The girl regards him warily for a moment. "I'm Ciara," she finally says.

"Are you guys here on a _date_?" the other girl asks, eyes narrowed.

"Yup," John says.

"This is a stupid date," she says flatly. 

Alex opens his mouth, already puffing up in righteous indignation, but John quickly says, "Well, we're a pretty stupid couple, so that's fine."

Ciara and her friend both giggle at that. 

Alex points at the sash hanging off of Ciara's shoulder. "What's that?"

"Uh, it's all my badges." The _duh_ is implied.

"No," Alex says, "That specifically. The one with the ghost."

Ciara examines her own sash and then points to a little triangle patch embroidered with a ghost coming out of a book. "That's my Paranormal Researcher badge."

"You can get badges for studying the paranormal?" Alex asks.

"Just that one," Ciara's friend says. "And then, when you're a Junior, there's a more advanced once, and another when you're a Cadette, and another when you're a Senior." She frowns. "Ciara got that one at camp. I don't have it yet."

"What do you have to do to get it?" Alex asks. His hand twitches in John's and John knows he wants to be taking notes about this, all of the teasing and frustration from earlier completely evaporated.

"A bunch of different things," Ciara says. "You have to learn about the different kinds of spirits, talk to a parapsychologist, research a famous haunting, learn what to do if you see a ghost, and...something else."

"We're parapsychologists," Alex says, gesturing between himself and John with their clasped hands.

"No you're not," says Ciara's friend.

"We are," John assures her. "We work at Morristown University."

Both girls' eyes go wide.

"You could come talk to our Brownie troop!" Ciara says.

"We totally could," Alex says, uncharacteristically eager to spend time around children, all of a sudden. He turns to John. "Right?"

"I'm not your keeper, a—" Right, right, children. "—aaalex. Uh. Yeah, we could." Alex smirks at him and he rolls his eyes.

Before John has to step in to set up a playdate, a woman slightly older than they are claps her hands and the girls turn to her. 

"Okay, Troop 973, eyes on me. We're going to head inside now. Remember what we talked about—stick with your buddy and think about how you can use this to work on your project next week." 

The girls all follow the woman and she begins to move towards the doors that John and Alex are standing in front of. As soon as she gets close enough, Ciara tugs on her jacket.

"Miss Nancy," she says in a rush, "Amelia and I met these boys and they're parapsychologists and they said they would come and talk to the troop so everyone could get their Paranormal Researcher badge!"

John offers the bemused troop leader his hand. "I'm John Laurens, this is my colleague, Alexander Hamilton," he says.

Alex drops John's hand, not-so-discreetly wipes his palm against his jeans, and then offers his hand as well. "We're parapsych grad students at MUNJ and we do freelance investigations on the side." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket once Nancy has released his hand and flips it open, then frowns. "Sh—oot." He glances up at John. "Baby, do you have a card? I can't believe I don't have any cards on me."

"Yeah, god, what were you thinking, forgetting to stock up on business cards before going out on a Valentine's Day date," John says, raising one eyebrow. He pulls out his own wallet and fishes a business card out of it, then hands it to Nancy. "You can reach both of us at that number and, honestly, both of us at that email address—it's mine, but we're rarely out of, like...shouting distance of each other."

"I'd love to chat with you if you're serious about visiting the troop," Nancy says. She glances down at the card and then pulls out her phone and tucks it into the wallet case. "The girls are doing a workshop after the planetarium show—do you two have a few minutes to talk then?"

John glances at Alex. "What else is in your top secret Valentine's Day plan? Can we spare a few minutes or will the whole thing collapse in on itself?"

Alex pokes him hard in the arm. "Excuse me, do I detect some sarcasm, Laurens? I worked really hard on putting this together, you know."

"You spent five minutes googling two days ago, I was literally right next to you when you did it," John says. 

Alex wrinkles his nose at John, which is unfairly adorable, and then turns back to Nancy. "Ignore him, we have plenty of time to talk to you about it after, yes."

"Great," she says. At least she seems amused by their back and forth. "I've gotta get these girls inside, but we'll talk then?"

"Count on it," John says.

"Cool!" Ciara chirps, then grabs her friend's arm and pulls her into the now-open planetarium theater.

John and Alex hang back, letting the Brownies and the undergrads filter inside. John slips his arm through Alex's while they wait, and once the crowd has thinned, they follow behind them and take seats in the back row. Alex takes off his coat and throws it on the chair next to him, then fidgets with his scarf while John stows his own.

"This is....this is okay, right?" John looks over at him. He sounds anxious, his focus on the scarf he's weaving between his fingers. "I mean, this whole thing—the planetarium and—"

"It's great," John insists softly, seriously, before Alex can continue. "Honestly, I love it." Alex looks up, finally, smiling a little nervously. John feels like an asshole. "I'm just giving you shit because that's what we do, you know?"

"It is," Alex says quickly. "And I'm not—I love that. Messing around with you, I mean. I feel like...like I can be myself with you. But I love you too, you know? All jokes and kidding aside—I want you to be happy. And I really did hope you'd like this."

"I do," John says. He takes Alex's hand and squeezes it tightly in his own. "Alexander—this is...one of the nicest dates I've ever been on. Definitely the best Valentine's Day date I've ever been on, and not just because I haven't really been on any before. This is gonna be nerdy and fun and I can't imagine a better way of spending the day."

Both of their seats have rigid plastic arms, but Alex manages to snuggle up against his side somehow anyway. "Good," he says. "You're an asshole, but you're my asshole and I want you to have whatever makes you happy. I want to be able to give you whatever makes you happy. I want to _be_ what makes you happy, when it comes down to it."

John swallows hard. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? Well, _you do_ is probably appropriate, but the words stick in John's throat, heavy and awkward.

He needs to just say it. It's two words, it's not that hard, just two dumb words. He can visualize himself saying them if he closes his eyes, but when he opens them....

He doesn't know why it's so hard to say some things and not others. He doesn't know why he can say _I love you_ without hesitation, while things like this dry up in his mouth. He doesn't know why he can whisper dirty and intimate things in Alex's ear anywhere, anytime, but he can't even write in a card, _I've never felt like this, I can't imagine being without you_.

For the time being, he admits defeat. He gives up on speaking at all, and instead turns to Alex as the lights dim and kisses him. The kiss catches him by surprise, but he quickly raises his hand to touch John's cheek and sighs into John's mouth, his body reorienting itself towards John in one smooth twist.

John is breathless when he pulls away, though the kiss was gentle and chaste. He tried to pour it all in there, how happy he is, how happy Alex makes him, all the things that freeze up on his tongue. His heart is hammering in his chest and he keeps Alex's hand squeezed tightly in his own as they settle in to watch the planetarium show. 

Alex squeezes back and lays his head on John's shoulder and John thinks—hopes—that he's gotten the message.

* * *

*  
**Part Three: Liquid Courage**  
*

* * *

The timing of their dinner reservation is just off enough that it makes more sense to go back to their apartment for a few hours than wander around downtown Morristown before their early meal.

("So, it turns out, if you're trying to get a reservation for after 4:45 on Valentine's Day, you need to call like...way in advance.")

The apartment is cooler than usual, but still leagues warmer than the brittle cold of the February afternoon. Lafayette likes to keep the thermostat ludicrously high, and they've taken advantage of his absence to turn it down to a balmy 67 degrees. Alex drops his coat and bag next to the door and flops onto the couch. John goes so far as to hang his coat on one of the hooks by the door before joining him.

"We could watch a movie or something?" Alex suggests.

"Yeah," John says. Then he adds, "Or we could make out."

Alex grins ferally. "I was hoping you were going to suggest that."

Despite living, working, studying, and generally existing within two feet of each other at all times, there aren't many opportunities for this kind of kissing in their everyday lives. One of the house rules is that they need to keep PDA to a minimum in shared spaces when Laf is home, and while they may be clingy and shameless, they're too serious about their work and meager attempts at professionalism to do it in the lab unless it's long after hours. And, sure, they spend time making out as foreplay in their bedroom and at von Steuben's parties and at the bar, but that kind of kissing is a whole different beast. That's kissing with a destination. This is kissing for kissing's sake.

John's a fan.

They kiss slowly, uncharacteristically quiet, their movements unhurried. Hands slip under shirts, but they don't strip down, and aside from some light frottage, nothing happens below the waist. Instead, they explore each other's mouths, throats, shoulders, chests. John lets his hands tangle in Alex's hair and stroke through it, twisting it gently between his fingers. He counts the ridges of Alex's spine, noses across his hairline and neck, kisses every freckle and mole and mark. 

He ends up on his back, with Alex's weight resting on his chest, gradually slowing until they're just lying together, exchanging only the occasional absent kiss. Alex looks almost sleepy like this, curled up on top of John with heavy eyelids. He's as still as John has ever seen him, not even tapping his fingers in time to John's heartbeat the way he sometimes does when he's trying to sleep at night. He looks young. Not young the way he seems when he's passionately arguing or running into a dangerous situation headfirst—that's a kind of youth that speaks of vitality and potential and having the world at his feet. No, this is the small kind of young, the soft kind of young. This is the kind of young that makes John think of holding his siblings after they had nightmares or even the hushed awe of the Brownies they met at the planetarium.

Quiet. Compact. Like Alex is something innocent that John needs to take care of.

Alex is the opposite of innocent and half raised himself—he doesn't need John to take care of him any more than he needs a hole in his head. And, god, John certainly shouldn't be trusted to take care of anyone. The last time he was, it ended in a nightmare that still haunts him.

Still, the impulse doesn't go away. John runs his fingers through Alex's hair and smoothes his palm up and down his back. Sometimes, when he's alone with Alex in these quiet moments, he almost allows himself to think of the future. To think of having this forever. And it should be scary—they're not even twenty-five and they've known each other for six months and John doesn't know that he even believes he has a future—but it never is. Instead, it borders on serene—there's a kind of security in imagining a future with Alex, who loves John so much and is so loyal and so blunt and so strong. Any uncertainty or or fear won't matter, not if he has Alex there to support him through it.

He's not certain of much in life, but he's certain of Alex. He wonders if he's ever told him that.

He wonders if he'll have the strength to maybe do it tonight.

Eventually, their dinner reservation creeps up on them. John shifts so that he's no longer stroking Alex's back, but tugging on his t-shirt. Alex looks sleepily up at him.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," John says. It's embarrassing how fond and gentle that one syllable can sound. "If our reservation is in half an hour, we should call a car now."

"Call a car?" Alex sits up a little and yawns, scrunching his nose up. God, John wants to kiss him again.

"If we're going on a fancy date, I want to be able to drink a couple of glasses of wine," John says.

Three glasses of wine spaced out over the meal, to be exact—the perfect amount to make him tipsy enough to lower his inhibitions without falling over into drunk. Enough, hopefully, to allow him to actually tell Alex how he feels without completely freezing up.

"Good point," Alex says. He sits up and stretches, disentangling himself enough for John to sit up as well. They're still close enough that Alex is practically on his lap as he looks John over. "You have a hickey." He frowns and looks closer. "You have two hickeys, actually. Or—uh, maybe three."

John punches his arm. "Whose fault is that?"

"I mark you up all the time!" Alex protests. "Just usually, you know, no one else can see it. But you're wearing long sleeves and a high collar and that is totally not my fault. I just can't help myself." 

John shoves him off the couch. "I was thinking very flattering thoughts about you not five minutes ago."

"And now?" Alex asks from the floor.

"Call us a car, since I have no idea where we're going. I'm going to fix my hair," John says.

Alex laughs as he stumbles to his feet, and John shakes his head fondly, stepping carefully around him as he makes his way to the bathroom. His hair is a mess, but when isn't it after Alex has had his hands in it? And the hickeys aren't as bad as he feared—at least one of them, maybe two, will be hidden if he buttons his collar all the way. Plus, it's not like anyone will be _surprised_. To be honest, he's a little shocked it hasn't been a problem before now.

It doesn't take long for the car to arrive and the ride into town is quick. The sun is only just beginning to set and it's early enough that the dinner rush hasn't started, but the lunch rush is already over. In other words, it's calm and as quiet as a Saturday afternoon ever gets. Moreso, maybe, due to the bitter cold. The restaurant is BYOB, so they dart into a liquor store to pick out a bottle of wine and still have time to window shop on their way to the restaurant.

They're ten minutes early for their reservation, but they're seated right away. John doesn't miss that the majority of their fellow diners are on the older side, though it makes him chuckle more than anything else. The restaurant is an Italian place, a little nicer than they usually bother with, the kind of place where the waiters offer freshly ground pepper and no one speaks above a murmur. Their waiter opens their wine and tells them the specials and wishes them a happy Valentine's Day, which John attributes to the fact that they can't stop looking up at each other and grinning, like they don't see each other all day every day.

It's nice, though, to be out like this. A little dressed up, doing something a little special, pretending for a few hours that they're real adults. Or, even more than that, letting the usual veneer of snark and rough-housing slip for a few hours—embracing the quiet part of their relationship, the part that lives in early mornings in bed and late nights alone in the lab.

Once the waiter has taken their order, John shifts his bag to his lap.

"I got you a thing," he says. Alex looks surprised at first, then excited, then embarrassed, all in the course of not more than two seconds.

"I didn't—" he starts to say.

"You set this whole thing up, you paid for the planetarium, you paid for the Lyft, and that's probably more than I spent on this dumb crap. So don't feel bad until you actually see what it is, okay?" John says quickly. He reaches into his bag and pulls out first the card and then his stupid drugstore gift, tied together with a bit of ribbon leftover from Laf's Christmas present to him. The second Alex sees it, he laughs, delighted, and reaches across the table, all grabby hands until John hands it to him.

"Oh my god," he says. He pulls off the star pen and waves it at John. "Did you know?"

"That we were going to the planetarium?" John asks. "No, I just saw it when I was buying tissues at CVS last night and it was stupid, so I bought it."

"We're just on the same wavelength, I gu—" Alex's joke cuts off when he picks up the gummy bears. "Holy shit, did you make these yourself ten minutes ago?"

"What?"

"John," Alex says seriously, "feel these gummy bears." He thrusts the bag at John, who blinks twice, rearing back a few inches.

"Excuse me?"

" _John, they're so fresh_!" He waves the bag at John, who tentatively reaches forward and squeezes it.

"They're...pretty fresh," he agrees.

"You don't understand!" Alex says.

"You're right, I don't."

"I'm seriously tempted to skip dinner and open them right now."

"There are days I'm really not sure why I like you so much."

Alex rolls his eyes and flips John off, but still hugs the gummy bears to his chest. "Thanks, asshole." He picks up the hairties. "And thanks for this too?"

"So you'll stop stealing mine," John says.

"How the hell can you tell whose they are? They're all black! They could be mine! They could be Laf's!"

"Then I've done us all a favor," John says, and tosses the card at him.

Alex rolls his eyes again and shoves the pen and gummy bears and hairties into his bag, squeezing the gummy bears one last time for good measure. He opens the card with one hand and glances down at it distractedly as he closes his bag, then freezes and closes it again to look at the outside. A tiny smile spreads across his face as he finally flips it open and reads the message.

John can feel himself starting to blush. Dammit, the whole _point_ of writing something dumb in the card was to avoid this.

"I love your stupid face too, John Laurens," Alex says. His smile is so earnest that John wants to hide behind his hands. He toughs it out somehow, only twitching a little under the attention.

"Yeah, well," he mutters, and takes a long sip of wine.

The meal is honestly wonderful—the food is good, of course, and their waiter is very sweet and attentive, but beyond that, John just enjoys spending the evening talking and laughing with Alex. He spends most evenings talking and laughing with Alex, of course, but this is different, somehow. Knowing they've set aside this time to focus on their relationship, knowing this is a deliberate choice to be together for the sake of it and not just because they're always together by default...something about that makes it feel important. It's like going out with the guys for a celebratory drink after a good case—they go out most weekends anyway, but purposely marking an occasion makes it that much sweeter.

John finishes his second glass of wine with dinner and has a third over dessert, a slice of chocolate cake that they share while arguing over politics and poking each other with their forks. John feels himself light up when Alex smiles and laughs and even when he scowls and pouts. He wants to say the stupidest things, make the stupidest promises, but they're still lurking just beyond his reach. Instead, he says _you're beautiful_ and _you're amazing_ and _god, I love you_ , and that's all true and Alex is happy with that, but John still wants to say _more_.

They split the check and John finishes his third glass of wine. When they get up to leave and he sees that Alex has left his own half full on the table, he takes that and swallows it down quickly before they go. Alex doesn't comment—he probably assumes John's just being thrifty—and they head back into the cold February evening holding hands.

Alex is staring up at the stars, which are few and far between in the city center, within spitting distance of New York. The street lights wash him in a warm, golden glow and his thumb is absently rubbing the back of John's hand and the last of the wine hits John's system and this is it. He has to say something now or he might explode.

He tugs Alex around the corner, just a few steps off the sidewalk and down a deserted side street. Alex smiles at him curiously and John crowds him up against the side of the building and curls a hand around his jaw, resting their foreheads together. 

"I love you," he says. "And I know you know that—I know I say it all the time—but I'm going to keep saying it because it's true. I love you, and I can't imagine my life without you. I can't imagine ever meeting anyone else who gets me this way. I can't imagine ever trusting anyone else the way I trust you—with my secrets, with my...my stories, my heart, my life. With everything. I turned my life upside down last year and nothing—nothing in the world feels real or lasting or _certain_ except you. And there's a part of my brain that keeps yelling, 'this is too soon, you haven't even known him a year, what the fuck are you doing, Laurens?' but it's so easy to drown it out because I've never felt this way before, so all those old rules don't matter. I just know. I know in every part of me."

He takes a shaky breath and opens his eyes. "I want to tell you every day, but I can't, so I'm telling you now and I hope that you _know_ every day: you make me so, _so_ happy, Alexander. Some days I feel like you're the only bright spot in my world, in my _universe_. Don't ever doubt that."

He exhales. His hands are shaking. Jesus, that was rough, even with two-thirds a bottle of wine as a crutch. 

Alex is pleased and surprised and a little misty-eyed, his lips parted in an opened-mouthed smile of shock.

"Is this why you chugged the last of the wine before we left?" he asks, and John chokes on a laugh and buries his face in the crook of Alex's neck.

"Yes," he admits.

"You dumbass, you didn't need to do that." His voice is fond, though, as he strokes one hand slowly up and down John's back, the other arm tight around his waist. "I know all that."

"But knowing and hearing aren't the same thing," John says. "You write me these beautiful letters and you whisper the sweetest things in my ear when you're not being, you know, a total shithead. I have these concrete things, this stuff that I can point at and say, 'That guy loves me, he's a genius and he's gorgeous and he loves _me_.' And I want to give you that."

Alex cups his hands around John's jaw, tugging him upward so their foreheads can rest together. John curls his hands around Alex's wrists. His heart is still pounding doubletime. "Baby, I don't need it," Alex says softly.

"I know," John whispers. Their noses are touching. "But I want you to have it."

Alex barely has to move at all to kiss him—it's just the slightest tip of his head and then his mouth is on John's, gentle and sweet. John lets himself fall into the kiss, lets Alex pull him closer and ease his mouth open and hold him with such care that John can't catch his breath.

When Alex ends the kiss, he doesn't go anywhere. They're still pressed together against the wall, sharing breaths. John's thumbs are still resting over Alex's pulse points; Alex's heart is beating as fast as his.

"I keep thinking about the planetarium," Alex says. His eyes are closed, which is good—this way, John can stare his fill without being embarrassed. "About what the guy was saying about binary stars. Two stars that are orbiting around a common point. So close together that they look like one star from far away." He opens his eyes and John, somehow, doesn't look away.

His throat feels tight, but he swallows, licks his lips, and manages to say, "That sounds pretty familiar."

Alex's grin nearly splits his face in two. "I thought it might."

John kisses him again, their knees knocking together as he tries to move even closer to block out the bitter February wind. He lets go of Alex's wrists and tucks his hands under Alex's coat and in his back pockets instead. They can't get any closer together, not while in their heavy winter coats, and John thinks again of the lying back in the planetarium and seeing the image of those two stars, drawn to the same solitary point in the whole expanse of the universe. He feels small and safe and awed and loved.

The cold gets to be too much, eventually. Alex shivers in John's arms and he gives in and steps away, which is maybe a mistake. Without their bodies pressed together, the cool air rushes between them and they both shudder.

"Anyway." John awkwardly clears his throat and Alex laughs. "Um. I just wanted to make sure you knew..." He gestures vaguely. "...all that."

"I do," Alex says. "And it's the best Valentine's Day gift I could have asked for." John reaches out to take his hand again and lace their freezing fingers together. "Although the gummy bears were _really fresh_."

Then John lets go of his hand and gives him a solid shove.

"I take it all back, you're an asshole," he says.

"Only for you, baby doll."

"That's ludicrously untrue, I think if you took a poll of everyone in the parapsych department, 'asshole' would win by a large margin."

Alex laughs and grabs John's hand back. "You ready to go home? I'm fucking exhausted for some reason."

"Yeah, it's cold as dicks out here."

They walk back up to the main street, turning towards the green and the lights and the bustle of the start of the Valentine's Day rush at all the little restaurants and bars dotting the streets. Alex leans against John's shoulder as they walk, probably to leech what little body heat he can spare, and John sighs happily at the contact.

"Just to be clear," Alex says as they approach the stoplight at the corner, "we're having sex when we get home, right? That's how dates like this end?"

John chokes on his laughter. "Well, it's Saturday night, so we were probably having sex when we got home anyway, but if you want it to be special, we could stop for, like, rose petals and scented candles on the way."

Alex squeezes his hand as they both stare at the light, waiting for it to change. "Flavored massage oil," he says.

"Those weird sex dice."

"Edible body paint."

"Sex coupons."

"Fuzzy handcuffs—" Alex glances over at John. "—although you might actually be into that."

John elbows him. "I don't make fun of your kinks."

"Uh, yeah you do," Alex says. "You made fun of my kinks this morning."

The light finally changes and the wind picks up and they press impossibly closer together as they rush over the crosswalk. 

"I made fun of your _face_ this morning," John says.

"You make fun of my face _every_ morning, but that's fine because you love my face."

John bites back a grin. "Shut up and call a car, asshole," he says.

"Anything for you, baby."

**Author's Note:**

> The planetarium is a real place, though they recently did a complete remodel and I haven't been there since I was in high school *mumblemumble* years ago.
> 
> Thanks for reading--hopefully up next is the sickfic people have been requesting since October /o\ Also, I might collect all the time stamps and put them up in their own AO3 collection or something. (And there are still a few timestamps I have to get to--and I will, cross my heart!)
> 
> (Also, I hear the internet's weird cousin is up for an award tonight and I wish him all the best though, god-willing, he'll never see this.)
> 
> (Also also, I know I still haven't answered all the comments on the last two stories. I'm gonna work on that soon, I swear. I super appreciate every single one of them ♥ My executive function has just fizzled out completely these days, is all.)


End file.
